Who's gonna blow the bugles
And give the battle cry?
Who's gonna fire the gatling gun,
And who's gonna bravely die?
Who's gonna be the daring?
Who's gonna be the bold?
Who's gonna bathe in pools of blood
And sleep out in the cold?

Who's that with the blisters
On their feet and mouth?
Not them politicians
In the North and in the South.
Who's that in the moonlight
Talking with his Pa?
Who's that in the bushes,
Trading coffee for a chaw?

(Chorus)

When the war is over,
Lawsy mercy me,
Who's gonna guard our country from
Some foreign enemy?
Who's gonna drive the cattle,
Who's gonna feed the mill,
Who's gonna plow the cotton and corn,
Who's a-gonna run the stills?

(Chorus)

Who's gonna court the ladies,
And buy their wedding bands?
Who's gonna shoe their pretty little feet
And glove their pretty little hands?
Who's gonna be the leaders,
Who's gonna be the men?
Who's gonna see that we don't ever
Fight ourselves again?